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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165241">Not-So-Young Liars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotano/pseuds/Sotano'>Sotano</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Early Comics Canon [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Uncanny X-Men Vol. 1 (1963), astral plane affairs, before magneto fights the x-men but after he's become magneto, but they've got a very strict unspoken rule against confessions, sleep deprivation could be considered a love language</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:08:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sotano/pseuds/Sotano</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm not happy with this situation," Erik said, finally shifting himself to lie on his back. "I never will be. Nothing about this is satisfying. But the alternative is worse."</p><p>Charles looked at him. The moonlight made his hair bright; so striking was the effect that Charles was certain if he put his hand above it, he'd catch a reflected moonbeam against his skin. His arms were folded behind his head, cushioning it, and his expression was a practiced frustration.</p><p>"Yes," Charles said, trying to imagine cutting ties with Erik for good. "The alternative is worse."<br/> </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Early Comics Canon [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2010022</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Not-So-Young Liars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Charles Xavier still wasn't used to this. Erik, back. A mutant liberation fighter, a terrorist. It was only a matter of time before he did something unconscionable, and Charles would have to settle with himself internally, ask difficult questions. <em>How much does fucking him in the astral plane make me culpable? Should I have stopped him?</em></p><p>Right now, Erik seemed calm, almost flirtatious. Charles stood by the window, looking out over the made-up view of--Cairo. They'd never spent any time in Cairo together. It was a safe choice. Charles had come here and grown into himself alone. Erik was lounging, catlike, on the couch.</p><p>They'd been discussing something or other, rather notably less talkative than usual. He got a kick out of the power of it, out of making Charles bend the rules for him, but he was also obviously just as lonely and frustrated as Charles, or he wouldn't be here. In fact, he seemed a little worse for wear compared to the last time. Charles joined him on the couch with a sense of impending doom.</p><p>"It shocks me that you're content to pretend to be a mere <em>human</em>."</p><p>"Content is a strong word," Charles mused. "But I do what needs to be done, for the safety of my students. And they know the truth. It's enough for me. For now."</p><p>"They don't know the whole truth," Erik said.</p><p>"Right, because your little revolutionary cell know all of your competing identities."</p><p>Magneto shrugged, took Charles' arm into his hands, almost just to look at it. Charles looked away. They have fucked like this four times. Four times after the years since he'd left and become Magneto, and Charles could only wonder what it would be like eventually, when the Magneto years outstripped the Haifa months. Soon he would grow more used to Erik in a cape than Erik in his white shirts. Soon he'd know Magneto's bitter fury better than Erik's loving admiration. The idea dampened his desire.</p><p>"Charles," Erik said. "I can give you what you <em>need</em>."</p><p>"Good to know that the ideology has thoroughly seeped into the sex already," Charles said, reflexively. Distance, deniability. Levity. They were his only defenses.</p><p>"I didn't mean ideologically--"</p><p>"--<em>but</em>," Charles said, capricious and pre-emptive.</p><p>"But I want that too," Erik said, kissing Charles' wrist.</p><p>His lips were cold, and Charles shivered, which Erik badly misinterpreted, but then, everyone couldn't be mind readers. Erik's kissing migrated to his friend's neck, and Charles craned away, which only gave him better purchase, and finally Charles had to put his hand in Erik's hair and pull him off.</p><p>They looked at each other honestly for a moment, and Charles was the first to lean in. Maybe he didn't want everything Erik did, but he wanted this. Erik's pupils were big in his pale eyes, and they undercut the otherwise prideful, demanding tilt to his head. And when Charles kissed him he worked open their mouths until the kiss was a mess of breathing.</p><p>Charles hated how good his mind was at creating these details. The astral plane had never been this replete until he'd fully flexed his powers in his fight with Amahl Farouk, and he wished to God he could stuff that genie back in the bottle, go back to being vaguely good at hearing thoughts and that was <em>it</em>, and not this power to live outside of his body, to tangle himself up with Erik at a moment's notice, a hundred miles away. He wondered if Erik still had a thing for his lips, as Erik kissed the corner of his mouth.</p><p>He pushed Erik down, straddled his abdomen, pinned Erik's broad shoulders with his not insignificantly strong arms. In here, he could make them stronger than any steel Erik could move, but he didn't want that. He wanted--needed--something normal.</p><p>"You're so beautiful," Charles said, and kissed Erik's chest. Erik's arms, not particularly trapped, held Charles' hips. Fingers ghosted over his ass, over the back of his thighs, threatening to pull Charles forward and into another kiss. Charles could see the idle thought in Erik's head. The world-class telepath made a frustrated noise and banished their clothing with an impatient wave. The shock of warm skin, of Erik's fingers suddenly gripping in surprise, it was like waking up from a dream, except that was the last thing he wanted to do. Erik groaned, already hard, and Charles wasn't far behind, even with his later start.</p><p>"You're going to kill me, Charles," Erik said, and meant it a little too much.<br/>
"If you don't fuck me, I'll consider it."</p><p>"Needy," Erik murmured, pulling Charles forward by the back of his neck. He kissed him, head cocked to one side, as his other hand pressed into the meat of Charles' thigh. Charles caught all the less-and-less idle thoughts in Magneto's head.</p><p>He wanted to flip Charles over, now. He was impatient. He wanted to fuck Charles until he <em>screamed</em>, he wanted to feel Charles writhe underneath him as he bottomed out. He wanted to tighten his hand around the back of Charles' neck, and did. He flipped them both over, so that Charles was on his back on the couch. He didn't <em>need</em> to, this was the astral plane, their bodies weren't real, but he <em>wanted</em>, quite desperately, to work Charles open with his fingers. and for that, Charles had to invent oil with his powers. They exchanged a glance.</p><p>"Brute," Charles said, and did as he was instructed.<br/>
"Prude," Erik replied. His fingers were magically slick, teasing.<br/>
"That's rich," Charles muttered, as Erik worked him open. "You were an innocent when I met you."<br/>
"I'd been <em>married</em>."<br/>
"<em>Practically</em> an innocent," Charles amended. He cried out, bit his lip, and Erik didn't smile like he might have a few years ago. If anything, he looked distraught.</p><p>A thought burned through Erik's mind, guilty and quick like a flash-fire. <em>I want to keep you here. I want to pretend.</em><br/>
"I want to watch you unravel," Erik said instead, and another finger made Charles keen. "You're so easy up here. What did you used to call it? A feedback loop?"<br/>
"I'm stronger than I was when we were young, especially here. I can control that now."</p><p>"We'll see," Erik growled. It was apparently the thing to set Erik on edge: a dose of reality. Magneto pulled his fingers out, and Charles pulled Erik's shoulders down, threading a little extra strength to his arms to do it. He kissed Erik in a placating, distracting sort of way unforgotten from their former relationship. Magneto melted as Charles kissed his upper lip. Meanwhile, the telepath snapped his fingers and they were on the bed, with enough space to actually move. Charles arched his back and the contact tore a sound out of Erik that was also kissed away, but damned if it wasn't a fucking <em>whimper</em>.</p><p>The first time they did this, they didn't speak. They barely even <em>looked</em> at each other, and Charles could tell that Erik had been furious, furious that there was a woman in Charles' life, however briefly. Not, of course, furious with Charles but with himself. And after, for just a moment, Erik looked on with an open-mouthed horror before Charles left the plane to wallow in his study at their mistake. Incredible, how after years of no contact they could meet twice and fuck. Charles' shattered heart didn't seem to offer much wisdom, nor restraint, and Erik had (with one massive exception) never been much good at restraint.</p><p>Now, Charles was starting to think the no-speaking should have been one of their unwritten rules. Like: no seeking each other out in the real world. No mentioning specifics. No mentioning Charles' girlfriends, all gone now at any rate. No confessions.</p><p>The talking made it difficult. It reminded Charles how much he missed the <em>rest</em>.</p><p>"Stop thinking," Erik murmured, lips grazing a spot just below his ear. Charles nodded eagerly, looping his arms around Erik's shoulders and hooking a leg around his thigh. "Line me up."</p><p>Charles' hand found Erik's cock easily enough, still much bigger than his fingers, and already so hard yet it twitched in his touch. He guided it, and Erik watched him for a signal. Charles nodded again and Erik's hips pressed gently, and then less gently, and Charles' breath hitched as the head passed his rim. Erik just hissed, pleased and animalistic, and yet Charles still felt that almost-anguish somewhere. Like this was a betrayal. Perhaps it was, but Charles wouldn't dig. <em>Stop thinking</em>. Erik bottomed out after a slow grind, hips flush against the backs of Charles' legs.</p><p>For a moment he was still, and Charles kissed his shoulder without thinking. In fact, his head was more or less silent for once. Magneto's hips bucked, and he made a noise through gritted teeth. And when Charles only gasped in response, Erik was set loose. He'd always done this at an absolutely bruising pace, but tonight he stuttered occasionally, keeping their chests close, and Charles couldn't see his face at this angle. He gripped Charles' hips for better purchase, raising the telepath up a little, lips brushing the divot of his collarbone. Charles edged close first, Erik was right, the feedback was too much. His mind was poorly insulated from Erik's, it was the force of an old habit. "Erik, I'm going to--"</p><p>Erik's hand shot to Charles' dick before he could get another word out, and Charles could feel something rumbling in Erik's chest. Or perhaps his mind. It was all very tangled. He came with a shout, he could feel the liquid heat on his stomach, or was that Erik's stomach? Erik made almost a startled noise and came only fifteen seconds later. Or had it been ten minutes?</p><p>It was dark in their bedroom. Moonlight, from a moon that didn't exist, that Charles certainly didn't have the wherewithal to create, but could be seen regardless from the open window. Erik heaved himself off, fell heavily onto the bed.</p><p>Usually after they'd fucked Charles would cut the connection. They talked plenty beforehand. Usually. But something made him stick around, for the first time. He just--Erik looked pained.  His head was partially obscured by the pillow, but he was grimacing. Tired and pained. Charles moved to get up, and Erik's arm sleepily caught him.</p><p>"Stay, little valentine," Erik muttered into the pillow. An old Baker, and Charles could practically hear it playing in Erik's old flat in Haifa.</p><p>"You pretend you're all right with this situation," Charles said. "You're less all right with it than I am."</p><p>"And yet here I am. You should be flattered, Charles," Erik said. "You're a very addicting drug."</p><p>"That's not what this is. I know what addiction feels like. This is--I don't know <em>what</em> this is. Desperation."<br/>
"The first time I fucked you was, what? <em>Five</em> minutes after the first time I kissed you? And it would have been fewer, if I felt like it was safe to fuck you in that alley. Desperation isn't <em>new</em>, and it's certainly not just on my side."<br/>
"Not what I mean, and you know it. Deflecting is my game."</p><p>"I'm not happy with this situation," Erik said, finally shifting himself to lie on his back. "I never will be. Nothing about this is satisfying. But the alternative is worse."</p><p>Charles looked at him. The moonlight made his hair bright; so striking was the effect that Charles was certain if he put his hand above it, he'd catch a reflected moonbeam against his skin. His arms were folded behind his head, cushioning it, and his expression was a practiced frustration.</p><p>"Yes," Charles said, trying to imagine cutting ties with Erik for good, knowing he wouldn't. "The alternative is worse."</p><p>"So we're stuck. Stuck like this. With one fucking half of anything we've ever wanted."<br/>
"Game theory isn't on our side, I know."<br/>
"And, as if it weren't bad enough, you make me <em>voice</em> it, which is its own torture."</p><p>Even as he said it with that reticent bitterness, Erik's arm came out, pulled their bodies together. Charles took the shelter, tucked his head against Erik's chest. It was Erik's way of demonstrating that he didn't blame Charles. For a moment they were fine, just breathing quietly, but the closeness was doing something else. Warm skin on warm skin, hot and lethargic in the dark. When Charles shifted, Erik inhaled a little too sharply, and when Charles tilted his head up to watch Erik, he could see the signs. He felt them too, frustratingly, and wrenched his eyes shut, pinning his forehead to Erik's chest again like it was a brick wall.</p><p>"I want you so badly, all the time," Charles said.</p><p>"God, Charles, I could--I <em>still</em>--" Erik cut himself off, speaking the last word half into Charles' mouth.<br/>
Erik pulled his body back over Charles' like <em>that</em>, hand coming to Charles' hip, the other cradling his face. The weight of him pushed Charles back down onto the bed. It was inconceivable that at his age he could do this twice in a row, even in the astral plane, and yet, Charles wanted it.</p><p>Erik was thinking about the past. Charles could see it in his head, all around them came the whispers of a long-dead relationship. <em>Don't stop, Charles,</em> came a bit-back cry from some far corner of his mind, the yellow light filtering into an empty hospital room through office blinds.</p><p>"No one else," Erik said. "Tell me."</p><p>
  <em>Tell me it's like that for you, because it'll always be like that for me.</em>
</p><p>"Fuck me, God, Erik, please--"<br/>
"--Charles Xavier, the uptight, proper, perfect <em>activist</em>. What does it for you is getting fucked <em>hard</em> without any emotional consequences."<br/>
"And what does it for you is assurances of fidelity from a man you're not in a relationship with," Charles shot back. Neither were exactly the truth, but they were easier barbs to swallow. "Which is more embarrassing?"</p><p>"It's not your exclusivity I'm after, tonight, Charles. Tell me you're <em>mine</em>. Tell me this is all you think about. Tell me you'd do anything for it."</p><p>So he wanted Charles to lie. There was a lot Charles would do for this, but they both knew their prices, they both knew the price the other wouldn't pay. There was a limit. Well, neither of them were very convincing liars, and Charles was of the opinion that a lie which isn't good enough to trick anyone didn't particularly count as a sin. Just a folly.<br/>
"Yes," he said. "Erik, yes, anything."</p><p>Finally. Finally, Erik pressed in, easy as a shift of balance, and Charles was a heady mix of relaxed and high-strung. He was a quivering mess, to the point where Erik's hand steadied his leg, pulling it up as he fucked him in earnest. Impossible, impossible, but he wasn't going to last.<br/>
"Erik," Charles breathed, and Erik's response was noticeable.<br/>
"Say it again," Erik said, "like that."<br/>
<em>Like nothing's changed.</em><br/>
"Erik, Erik, darling, I l--"</p><p> </p><p>And Erik woke, careening upwards, breathing heavy, Charles' name on his lips. He was--back in his room in the city. Back in the Brotherhood's current base of operations. The real world. Had Charles cut their connection, to stop himself from..?</p><p>No. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but Erik knew what it felt like when Charles shut him out. It felt like a door being slammed in his face. He wouldn't still be hard if Charles had kicked him out. And he was painfully so. He'd been <em>woken up</em>. And there was a light in his door, and the silhouette of a dead man walking blocked some of it. Mastermind leaned on the frame waiting for him to come to his senses; looking uncomfortable; probably assuming it had been a nightmare. Erik soundproofed his hideaway, unlike Charles' mansion, but they all knew about them. From Charles, a long time ago, he had learned that the metal of a building shakes occasionally when he dreams. Erik glared at the little creep, and he spat out what he'd come to say.</p><p>"There's been sightings of that mutant you wanted us to keep an eye on. The one you wanted to recruit," Mastermind said, shifty.</p><p>"Wyngarde," Erik said, rubbing the sleep he didn't get from his face. "If you don't get the fuck out right now, I'll kill you."</p><p> </p><p>The door closed, and Erik was suddenly exhausted. He pulled himself to the edge of the bed, put his legs over the edge. The floor was cold, it helped shock him back into himself, helped banish that strange astral-plane tension. The feeling that his muscles were worn and taught, even when they couldn't be. His time with Charles faded as if it really were a dream, and he needed to wake up.</p><p>Frustration shot through him like a lance, and after it a wave of self-loathing. That would probably be the last time. Perhaps he could see Charles again, before his plans really set themselves to motion, but it would be cursory. Charles would already know, by then, the lengths he'd go to for his beliefs. The innocent lives he'd put in danger. The next time Charles spoke to him, it would quite possibly be to tell him to rot in hell. The worse alternative: the door would be locked, and Charles would change the keys, and that would be that. He didn't have time to wallow in disgusting, misplaced self-pity that he didn't get off, that he didn't hear Charles say it. He had battle plans to draw up. Soon, he'd have to face the X-Men.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Somehow by far the most X-rated thing I've ever written and simultaneously one of the saddest</p></blockquote></div></div>
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